The Greenwich café was busy. Small and intimate, Thirteen Forks probably seated around thirty people. It was just off Perry Street, two empty tables with blue-and-white tablecloths hugging the front window. An empty mug said someone had recently braced the chill to sit under the clear blue sky.
People hurried by, the frigid weather an ominous warning of the snow expected at the end of the week.
Andy took off her gloves and stuffed them in her coat pockets, then looked at her watch. It was Wednesday, November nineteenth. Two days until Arlene Hampton’s murder, if the scant indicators they had were to be trusted.
She stepped aside so that Isabelle could walk into the warmth of the café first. She glanced at David and Iona poring over a city map on the corner like lost tourists before she followed. She’d always liked them. They were a strong, competent team to have as backup.
Somewhere close by there should also be a white van they would have parked out of sight on their way here.
Thirteen Forks served breakfast and dinner. Bookshelves lined the wall opposite them, reaching up to a white steel-pressed ceiling. The hardwood floors were slightly scuffed from countless feet walking to the cake and takeout coffee counter.
“Lovely,” Isabelle exhaled.
Inside, the restaurant smelled of freshly ground coffee, hot bread, and fried bacon, despite the clock on the wall saying it was already twelve fifty-three. Arlene Hampton had a lunch appointment here. According to her diary, she was to meet an EKW at one. Jam said she always used initials, or some kind of code, to mark appointments in her online diary.
Hampton hadn’t arrived yet, and Andy and Isabelle were shown to their table. They sat down, Andy with her back to the wall, Isabelle to her left.
Andy knew she had to be on the lookout for Hampton, but it was difficult not to stare at Isabelle as she took off her coat. White certainly suited her. The tight white skirt showed off her glowing skin, punctuated with the odd freckle. Her red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a thick, wavy mass.
“You okay?” Isabelle asked without looking up from her menu.
“Huh? Sure. Why do you ask?”
“You’re staring.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Andy scrambled to find a reason for having had her eyes latched on Isabelle. “I was just wondering if you’re okay, that’s all. It’s been a tough few days.”
Isabelle smiled without looking up. “I am. Don’t worry. And I’ll be okay if things get nasty. I’ll run away, just like René said I should do.”
“Liar.”
“I’m an important asset, remember.” Isabelle winked at Andy. “You’re just a piece of meat. An attractive piece of meat, but still.”
The compliment silenced Andy. Pleased her too, but she tried not to show it. Or think about why exactly it pleased her.
The café door opened. Two heavyset men in dark jeans and black bomber jackets walked in. One had biceps the size of Andy’s thighs and a beard in desperate need of trimming. The other was bordering on obese, cleanshaven, with ears that suggested some sport that required a helmet through a large part of his life. His left ear was mangled into a mess of skin and cartilage.
Could be football. Could be a whole lot of dirty work and getting your ass kicked on a regular basis.
Andy looked at the men’s shoes. They always told you a lot about a person. These guys were wearing heavy, black boots. Worker boots. Steel-tipped and in need of a shine. Her eyes traveled upward. Belts that have recently loosened a notch. Barrel chests. Skittish eyes that went looking…for a guy in a suit in the corner opposite Andy. He was in his thirties with floppy bangs and short sides. Neat suit. Expensive, bespoke in an elegant genteel light gray.
He was sipping tea from a fine white china cup while reading a Kindle.
“Are you looking at the man drinking tea?” Isabelle interrupted Andy’s thoughts.
To her credit she didn’t look at the man, but instead kept on staring at the menu.
“Yes. And the two big guys with black jackets who just walked in. Do you recognize any of them?”
“From my dreams?”
“Yes.”
“No. That man in the corner just felt strange. Out of place somehow.”
Excellent instincts, Andy thought.
The Black Jackets sat down near the entrance.
Andy wanted to leave, to take Isabelle somewhere safe, but knew it would be a fool’s errand. Someone’s life was at stake. And besides, it was possible that none of these men had any connection to Arlene Hampton.
She gave a wry smile at the notion. Experience had taught her that coincidence tended to work against her. She certainly wasn’t a favorite among the fates.
She ordered a meatball sandwich and double espresso. Never knew when you were going to get the chance to eat again. Isabelle ordered tea and a Thai beef salad.
The door opened and an elegant blonde walked in, a camel-colored leather handbag slung over her left forearm. She waved a greeting to the elderly women behind the counter and walked to a table against the wall that sported a “reserved” sign. She sat down, moved the chair next to her closer, and placed her handbag on it and flicked it open. She pushed up her sunglasses and removed her leather gloves, then placed them on the table.
Andy realized she was doing everything with her left hand, keeping her right hand free to reach for the gun she probably had hidden inside her handbag.
It meant she didn’t trust her environment, even though the greeting had suggested Thirteen Forks was a familiar lunch spot. But was this habit, or did something about this particular lunch meeting make her nervous?
The guy drinking tea and reading his Kindle had looked up when she walked in.
The Black Jackets were trying not to stare, but they were definitely interested.
Nobody had registered Andy or Isabelle yet.
Hampton ordered from the server. He returned two minutes later with the New York Times, and four minutes later with tea, also served in fine white china.
The clock hit 1:04. Hampton looked at her watch. Whoever she was waiting for could show at any time. Time to push Isabelle into play.
“Think you could go select a slice of cake and inadvertently touch her?”
Isabelle nodded, tension a tiny nervous tic on the left side of mouth. “Skin?”
“Preferably, your people tell me.”
“Okay.”
She made her way through the tables in front of her. Stumbled as if she’d misstepped, sucking in her breath in mock shock. She grabbed hold of Hampton’s shoulders. Hampton reached out to steady her without thinking, her protective instincts well developed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Isabelle gushed. “Thanks very much.” She held on to Hampton’s hand, squeezing her gratitude before letting go.
“No problem,” Hampton smiled. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Isabelle rolled her ankle tentatively.
“Careful on those pumps.” Hampton eyed them with envy.
“Thanks. They’re new. Don’t know what I was thinking wearing them in this weather.”
“Beauty always metes out some form of punishment,” Hampton said with a practiced wink, slipping an appreciative glance over Isabelle’s body.
Isabelle laughed. “I bet that chocolate cake will also make me pay.” She pointed to a decadent mousse cake sitting at the front of the display.
Hampton turned to look at the array of confectionary. “No doubt. But it might just be worth it. Excellent choice, by the way. I’d recommend it.”
Isabelle laughed again and walked to the server behind the display. She ordered a slice of cake to go and walked back to their table.
The Black Jackets couldn’t stop staring at Isabelle. They’d ordered hot chocolate, a fifty lying on the table, as if they wanted to clear out quickly if they were forced to do so. Tea Guy still didn’t look up from the Kindle he was reading.
Weird. Almost everyone in Thirteen Forks had looked up when Isabelle had stumbled.
Their food arrived, followed by the slice of cake in a takeout box. Andy bit into the sandwich. Heaven, just like the coffee. She slipped out her phone and surreptitiously took photos of Black Jackets and Tea Guy to see if Jam could identify them.
Hampton looked at her watch. It was 1:11. She signaled the server for the bill.
“Not a very a patient woman, is she?” Isabelle noted.
She was right. Hampton hadn’t looked at her phone once, so nobody had notified her that they had better things to do on this Wednesday afternoon.
“She’s here for the show,” Andy said slowly, as the realization hit. “But why? For those guys?” She pointed to the Black Jackets, then to Tea Guy who was settling his bill.
“Could be,” Isabelle said.
Andy had to make a quick decision as Hampton got up and walked out. “I’m going to follow Tea Guy when he leaves and see where he goes. You stay here and have lunch.”
“Will you be okay?” Isabelle asked, a worried tone in her voice.
“Yes. And David and Iona are on standby outside. And you’ll be able to follow everything on your earpiece.”
“Okay.” Isabelle nodded. “I’ll see you later. Please be careful. And remember, we have that meeting at Arlene’s apartment building at three.”
“I’ll be there. And if I’m not, don’t worry.” She pointed to her bracelet. “Jam will know where to find me.”
* * *
Tea Guy walked with quick, long strides, but it was easy enough for Andy to keep up with him. He dodged errant sidewalk trash and pedestrians glued to their phones with the ease of a born New Yorker, hands dug into his coat pockets.
His shoes were black and pointy. Shiny to a fault. He wiped his bangs out of his face. His hair was somewhere between light brown and dark blond. He was older than Andy had first thought, more in his forties than his thirties. He had a lean and sinewy build, and his chin was as sharp as his cheekbones.
Andy was lucky he was walking and not taking a cab. That would complicate things, even though David and Iona were standing by to pick her up should that happen. They saw her leave Thirteen Forks. And Jam would be tracking her.
Her phone was in her pocket and the earpiece where it should be. Holding the number nine turned her phone into a multi-channel encrypted radio system.
“Heading southeast,” she said as Tea Guy kept going in a straight line. She kept fifteen paces back, to his left as he hurried through the crowded streets.
“Got you,” Iona said in her crisp English accent. “David is on foot trailing you. He’s about a minute back.”
“Got you too,” said Jam from the head office.
Iona spoke up again. “Isabelle said to tell you that the guys in black jackets left shortly after your guy. She’s having trouble with her phone.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Andy said.
They walked for another minute or two. Then Tea Guy abruptly turned left, disappearing down an alley.
Andy’s heart rate picked up.
Her earpiece buzzed.
“You okay? Your heart rate has jumped,” Jam asked.
“Yes. No problem.”
She didn’t know if she should follow Tea Guy, but then did it anyway. Time wasn’t on their side, and hurrying things along was sometimes the only solution to preventing an impending murder.
She exhaled sharply as she turned the corner.
“Scratch that,” she said as she came to a halt. “Send in the troops.”
She removed her hands from her coat pockets. In front of her, Tea Guy stood waiting. She waved, smiled, and moved left, as if to pass him. He gave one long stride into her space, her body bouncing off his.
“Hi, buddy, what’s your problem?” she asked as she again hinted to move left.
He again stepped to block her. She jabbed him in the throat with a quick fist. He’d dodged right with lightning quick reflexes, but she still managed to make him gag. She rushed forward, lifting her knee to his groin. Followed it up by slamming his face down on her knee.
She grimaced at the crack of bone. She was lucky. She’d had the element of surprise on her side.
Behind her she heard footsteps. She spun around. David?
No. One of the Black Jackets threw a right at her. She ducked and his fist cut a hole through the air above her. She punched him in the stomach and got a slight whoosh out of him through the layers of fat and muscle.
Where is the second Blac—
Pain exploded between her shoulders.
She rammed her body back, slamming the block of flesh behind her into the alley wall. She lifted her right leg, punching the heel of her own steel toe boot backward and down on the man’s knee behind her. She heard a snap. A groan. The body sinking to the ground. Something heavy hitting the asphalt.
The sound of running feet turned her head.
A white van stopped, its doors already open. David and Iona stormed out of the van, followed by René.
The other Black Jacket was nowhere to be seen. Same for Tea Guy.
She groaned in frustration. He was the one she’d wanted. It felt like he was the one who could have told them what was going on.